


Les Liaisons Dangereuses

by allwedidwaskiss



Category: Common Law
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fellatio, M/M, Male Slash, blame it on the alcohol, no seriously Travis has a filthy mouth in bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwedidwaskiss/pseuds/allwedidwaskiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP, seriously this is just 10k+ of smut (hopefully passable smut). </p><p>Travis always wanted to know what Wes tasted like, and now, nine, or possibly eleven (because who's counting, really?), gin & tonics later, he finally has his chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Liaisons Dangereuses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hangitup_baby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hangitup_baby).



> Disclaimer: USA owns all rights/characters, I'm just playing with them ;)
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: so what, I have a soft spot for films from the 80’s? Title taken from Dangerous Liaisons (I mean, Travis used the phrase and all of a sudden, I was like, “TITLE THERE YA GO.” Even though I steadfastly maintain that Valmont is the better version. But don’t take my word for it, check them both out for yourself!). also, still a novice at this, so please be nice... it's also unbeta'd as of yet, so if you notice anything, feel free to shoot me a message so i can patch it up! XD

It began in the elevator.  Or more accurately, it had really begun when they first met. Travis wasn’t entirely sure and pretty certain he didn’t actually care at the moment.

It had been an ordinary enough day; they’d finally caught a break on the case they’d started earlier that week. 

They had painstakingly followed breadcrumbs from the “accidental death” of a Russian “mail order bride” right into the unexpected clusterfuck of a mob-affiliated prostitution ring. 

They had spent the week running down leads, most of which were tightlipped, burly, dangerous types with thick, almost unintelligible accents and a highly inappropriate amount of facial scars. 

Finally, after six days of pointless interrogations and witnesses disappearing into the wind or developing selective amnesia to go along with their new bruises they had gotten from “falling down the stairs”, they had found a girl willing to talk, in exchange for witness protection for her and her ancient grandmother, and with her cooperation, the detectives had managed to implicate the boss in poor Natassja’s murder, bringing the whole operation down.

They’d come back to Wes’ hotel, had a couple of drinks at the bar to celebrate a difficult case wrapped up with a bow on top, a slew of mobsters off of the streets for at least a couple of years.

They’d been there for hours, downing drink after drink.  Travis plowing through gin and tonics like he was paid for it and Wes delicately, and then more eagerly, tipping back dry martinis. 

They spent hours just laughing and talking, slipping into their easy familiarity without any of the usual bickering. 

Which is why by the time four am rolled around Travis had forgotten that his partner was usually an OCD jerk wad and was actually having a great time. 

Unfortunately, the bartender picked that time to put out last call.  Travis made a move to take his phone out of his jacket to call a cab only for the blonde detective to stop him with a hand on his arm.

“No way I’m let you pay for a cab alla the way out to the  _valley_. Costa fortune, you can crash on my couch.” Wes slurred at him, wrapping a heavy arm around his shoulders.

Travis frowned at him in concern, “Ya sure? I snore like a wila-wiledr-like a moose,” he stumbled over his sentence, not quite sure if wildebeest was always so difficult to pronounce.

“Yah, s’no problem, pardner,” Wes grinned at him, grasping his elbow and waving a vague hand in the direction of the bartender.

“Put the tab on Room 1124,” he said loudly, as they unsteadily extricated themselves from their barstools and ignored the bartender’s scowl that no tip would be forthcoming.

Travis had smirked and shrugged, shot the guy an apologetic look and followed his partner’s meandering path to the elevator.

Wes practically slammed into the wall once they were inside, grinning like a loon for no reason; Travis decided that he liked Wes drunk.  He was much more fun than surly, sober Wes.

They stood there, still smiling, falling into a companionable silence as the lift juddered to life.  But then Travis glanced over at Wes, really looking like he often wanted to, but hardly ever indulged on the off chance that Wes would notice.

Wes was leaning with one shoulder against the wall exactly where’d he’d fallen, arms crossed with his hip jutted out to the side.  The stance was a force of habit it would seem, but it always drove Travis up the wall.  

The way the posture highlighted the inviting curve of his spine, his hips pushed out, almost begging to be touched.

He realized he had been staring and had been caught out when his eyes finally made it back to Wes’ face and the blonde crooked an eyebrow at him, a questioning smirk on his face. 

His held his eyes a open a little too wide, trying to compensate for the alcohol as he stared at Travis intently and that was all it took for him to come undone.

Years of wanting his partner reached critical mass and his liquid courage took over his body, urging him into action.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d moved into the blonde’s space, pressing a hand into his chest, backing him into the wall and gripped his hip with the other, leant forward into him and pushed a frantic kiss against Wes’ lips.

Gin and desire sparked through his bloodstream, imitating the exhilarating buzz of electricity moving over his physical body, his arm hair standing on end, as he worked his bewildered partner’s lips open, licked his way into Wes’ surprised mouth. 

His skin was tingling at the excitement of finally kissing Wes; the blonde’s lips were soft and perfect, giving under his in a gentle slide of skin.  He tasted like those vile martinis he insisted on drinking but also of mint and what Travis thought was vanilla coffee.

It was a couple of seconds before Travis realized that the blonde wasn’t responding and he stopped the kiss, made to pull back; to try to control the damage, explain that he’d had too much to drink, that it wouldn’t be too much trouble to catch a cab back to his place,  _sorry_. 

But then the other man had reacted, as though on a delay, moaning against his lips, restarting the kiss of his own accord, mimicking Travis’ earlier ministrations, kissing back as though he was trying to climb into his mouth.

Travis closed his eyes and allowed his partner to lick at his tongue, his teeth, touch to the roof of his mouth gently.  Wes’ kisses were soft and slow, a bit exploratory, but a lot attentive and zealous. 

Travis felt his knees go weak as the blonde reached up to knit his fingers together, cradling Travis’ head, keep him attached to the blonde’s mouth.

Travis fisted both hands in Wes’ hair, and didn’t realize that Wes had pushed himself off the wall, had turned them around, until he was pinned against it.  The blonde was still kissing him intensely, making his mind race uncertainly.

Should they really be doing this?  Was Wes really all right with this?  They had been drinking, quite a lot.  How far were they going to let this ride?

The ding of the elevator doors sliding open startled them apart, Wes’ head jerking around to look out the doors, staring in the same wide-eyed way at the empty hallway.

“This is my floor,” Wes said unnecessarily, sounding a bit breathless as he turned back to Travis, darted in to plant a kiss to the edge of his jaw before he turned to exit the elevator.

Travis stayed against the carriage wall, as if he were super glued to it.

“Uh, dude.” Travis began, trying to gauge the situation.  They were partners, saw each other every day and spent most of their waking hours together, usually in close quarters. 

Maybe it was better to nip this in the bud, for Travis to go downstairs and call a cab, to forget the way that his lips still tingled from kissing his partner. 

They would go their separate ways, put the memory out of their minds, made hazy by all the drinks, softened by how they had been getting along almost all week, eventually have a hushed laugh about the time they had made out like horny teenagers in the elevator; opt out before it got out of hand.

“What’re you waiting for?” Wes asked impatiently cutting through Travis’ thoughts, his hand on the doors so they wouldn’t shut, and Travis jerked his head up to look at him and promptly forgot what he was going to say. 

Wes looked delicious, his lips kiss-swollen, his hair ruffled all over his head with his eyes scrunched up, pondering why Travis was still in the elevator car.

“Dunno, nothing.” He mumbled and followed Wes out of the elevator and down the hallway.  The blonde fumbled slightly, getting the keycard in the door, but grinned once they were inside.

He didn’t give Travis a single second to get his bearings, for his mind to start spitting out doubts again. 

He pressed him up against the door, drowning him into a searing kiss, his movements no longer hesitant as he gripped Travis hip with one hand and held his jaw with the other, making small sounds into the kiss.

Travis shuddered and gave back as good as he got, tangling their tongues together, sucking the blonde’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipping lightly with his teeth.

They somehow moved off of the door to the wall inside the foyer though Travis didn’t remember moving, had no recollection except Wes’ mouth kissing him surprisingly lewdly and the blonde’s breath gusting into his mouth.

Travis kissed Wes until he they were both gasping into it but unwilling to break contact.  He couldn’t decide where to put his hands first, so he settled for everywhere, running his fingers through the blonde’s hair again, grasping his neck, cradling his cheek, skimming his fingers inside his collar, skating them along the top of his slacks.

Travis was almost out of his mind, brain skipping over and circling back around the fact that he was finally,  _impossibly_ , touching Wes, the Untouchable. 

He tried to wrap his mind around the reality that was the press of his fingertips into smooth skin, his tongue wrapped around the blonde’s, feeling the incessant heat of his partner’s body pressed against him, opening up to his kiss and touch, asking for more, just as lost in desire as Travis was. 

Travis felt like his skin was on fire where Wes was touching him in return; his nimble caresses lighting a trail of almost visible light and raised goose bumps across his skin in the wake of where the blonde trailed his hands. 

The slide across his skin was invigorating, almost pushing him into sensory overload as Wes gripped at him tightly, pressed his lips to his throat, his pulse point, over his clavicle; dragging his tongue and bottom row of teeth across the jut of bone in one unbelievably arousing sweep, causing Travis to shiver and arch further into his tongue. 

When Wes slotted his thigh between Travis’, pressed up against him, his dick hard and hot, even though their layers, Travis jerked against him, looking for friction for his own aching length.

He was rarely this gone; had never felt this absolute abandon, somehow pulled in and rolled over by the sensations of another person touching him, like getting caught under by a cycle of waves at the beach.  He wasn’t exactly panicking, secure in the knowledge that the surface was actually a second away and he’d be able to find if easily, once he knew which direction was up, again.

Wes’ touch was a lot like that; he knew that if he were to step away, he’d be fine, levelheaded, and confident.  It was just that he didn’t  _want_  to step away, was enjoying the tumbling, roiling, head over heels feeling that Wes against him gave him, where he wasn’t sure which way was up and the burn had set into his lungs but it wasn’t scary, more sort of peaceful, kind of fun.

Travis usually kept a clear head during any and all sexual encounters, remained aloof enough to enjoy himself but never got sucked in by the overwhelming sensations, never teetered on the brink of control over himself, or the situation.

But Wes was pulling something out of him, his responses were heightened and tempered by the way the blonde was clutching at him, pushing against him, whispering moans and whimpers into his mouth, across his neck, into his ear.

Finally, remembering that they both needed air, but unsure of when they had started kissing again, when Wes’ mouth had left the tingling path it had been mapping across his neck.  Travis pulled back to stare at the blonde’s face, already utterly high on lust.

His hair was even more wild now from Travis compulsively running his fingers through it and his face was blushed a bright pink, spreading down into his shirt collar as Wes’ hips stuttered against his, his blush deepening, if possible. 

Travis cocked a grin at his partner and reached for the top buttons on his chest, wanting to see just how far that beguiling flush spread.

Wes licked his lips unconsciously and raised a hand to grasp the back of Travis’ neck, pulling him back into a greedy kiss, their teeth clacked together as the blonde moved his tongue into Travis’ mouth more forcefully now, getting rougher as his need escalated. 

Wes ground into Travis’ crotch, sliding their hardened dicks against each other and he gasped at the sensation, how good the crush of friction felt, the feeling leaping from Travis’ groin and flying like quicksilver up his spine, igniting as a burn and crash under his skin, a bonfire burning bright and out of control causing his heart to race, his hands to shake.

The pressure provoked a moan out of him, reverberating between them as he made quick work of opening Wes’ shirt, slipped his fingers inside, lightly dragged his nails down his sides.

Wes jerked forward in response, breaking the kiss, a stuttered cry falling from his lips involuntarily.

“Clothes. Off.” Wes gasped out, already pushing at Travis’ jacket, sliding it off his shoulders.

“Bossy, aren’t you?” Travis teased, mouthing the words into his neck as he stripped Wes of his shirt, tentatively moved his hands to the silver belt buckle the blonde always wore.

Wes growled and, hand to God; it was the hottest thing Travis had ever heard.  His heart picked up, pumping worryingly fast in his chest as his partner tugged his shirts off, he raised his arms to help him.

Wes immediately began smoothing his hands over Travis’ chest, pushing his fingers against his skin gently as he leant in to lick and bite his way down his throat.

Travis moaned, tried to remember how to command his limbs as he stroked Wes’ neck and arms, spurring the blonde on.

When Wes dropped to his knees, boldly undoing his belt and the fly of his jeans with one hand, Travis couldn’t help but groan at the sight of him; his pupils were completely blown out, his lips plump and bruised from kissing as they smirked up at him.

He tried to reconcile the thought of Wes as he knew him, tight-lipped and angry, to the creature kneeling in front of him, licking his lips as he sized Travis up, and couldn’t.  His brain shorted out for a second and then Wes practically ripped his jeans down and he gave up entirely on coherent thought.

Wes leant forward to exhale on Travis’ erection through his boxers and he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled out of him, getting lost in translation between his throat and his lips.

Wes arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead hooked his thumb in his waistband and pulled his boxers down painfully slow; dragging them against Travis’ engorged skin the whole way down.

“Wes,” he gasped, didn’t even know if he could get any other words out to beg, though he wasn’t far from it.

“Hmm,” his partner exhaled, rested his head on Travis’ exposed hip, his breath ghosting over his bare skin now and Travis thumped his head back against the wall, trying to keep it together.

Just the thought of Wes on his knees, for  _him_ , was doing insane things to his erection; he could feel it jump against his stomach, brushing against the blonde’s jaw, felt himself  _leaking_ , getting ridiculously wet and he hadn’t even been touched yet.

Wes shifted, snaked his tongue out to taste the thick bead of precum dripping out of Travis’ tip.

Travis actually choked as he watched the blonde lick his head cautiously and then pull his tongue back, rolling the taste around in his mouth, testing it before he moved back in, licked a hot, lazy stripe up Travis’ entire length.

Air punched out of his chest at the sensation of Wes’ tongue gliding over him, circling around his head before the blonde opened his mouth and swallowed as much as him down as he could without warning.

Travis’ knees buckled in earnest as the blonde’s mouth enveloped him, soaked him in impossibly liquid  _heat_ , the slick feel of his partner’s mouth moving over him causing him to pant and rake his fingernails down the wall.

Travis was going to lose his mind, the smooth feel of moving in the other man’s mouth making his brain dribble out of his ears.  He couldn’t take his eyes off of Wes’ face. 

The other man had his eyes closed in concentration, his pink lips stretched around his filled out flesh, mouth glistening with spit as he worked Travis in and out slowly, torturously.

Travis was harder and more turned on than he could ever remember being except for when he had been sixteen.  He knew he was practically dripping into Wes’ mouth, could imagine how the taste was sitting heavy on his partner’s tongue as he massaged it up and down his dick, pushing with each bob of his head, flicking at the sensitive spot just under his head on each upward stroke, causing Travis’ toes to curl.

The sight of his dick sliding between those lips was devastatingly erotic in the best way, and then Wes tried to relax his throat and Travis felt when he bumped against his tonsils, felt the blonde swallow convulsively around him, intensifying the pressure.

He was sure that the wall would have gouges in it from how hard he was gripping at it.

He was holding out with every inch of his willpower to not thrust into that incredibly moist, silken heat as Wes stroked his tongue along the vein on the underside of his erection and sucked with all the sloppy, enthusiastic ingenuousness of a novice blowjob.

Despite the blonde’s inexperience, he had Travis holding on for dear life, fighting to keep his eyes on Wes as he slowly lost his composure, bit by bit, with each slide.

“Wessss,” he hissed, apparently the only word of the English language he could remember tumbling out of his mouth. 

The blonde hummed in response and Travis did jerk forward then, just a little.  Wes made a muffled sound of surprise but didn’t stop, the vibration zinging through Travis and he finally let his head fall back against the wall, screwed his eyes shut, couldn’t help but bring a hand up to rest of the other man’s head, threading his fingers through that tousled, soft hair.

Travis could feel his pulse climbing to dangerous heights and an answering pulsing weight gathering low in his stomach as he panted brokenly, his throat was dry and caught when he attempted to swallow. 

And still Wes didn’t stop; he kept up the pressure, continued the press of his tongue, working more and more of Travis’ cock into his mouth, attempting to swallow around him more often. 

Travis dared a glance down at him and was almost floored by how fucking ravaged Wes looked.

Spit and precum slicked his chin, his lips were red and abused looking as he slurped Travis back down his throat. 

Travis realized belatedly that Wes had a hand in his own boxers and was fisting himself furiously, working in time with the rhythm he had set sucking Travis to and he knew he was about to come,  _hard_ , if Wes didn’t stop like, five minutes ago.

“Shit, shit. Wes,  _stop_.” He groaned, trying to push his partner off of him.  His cock sprang free with a resounding  _pop_ and Travis groaned again.

“What?” the blonde ground out, his hand still on his own dick, though he had stopped stroking, he brought his other hand up and worked gently at his jaw.

“Did I do something wrong?” his voice was so utterly hoarse and damaged sounding that Travis wanted to shove right back into that wonderful mouth.  Wanted to fuck into him, grinding into the back of his throat until he came straight down it and hear what the blonde sounded like after that, whether he would even be intelligible.  Travis had to close his eyes for a moment.

“No, nothing wrong. Really good, actually,” he said, opening his eyes to Wes’ unpleasantly confused face, still located enticingly close to his groin.

“Then why’d you tell me to stop?” his voice sounded like sandpaper and gravel had met and had a baby and Travis grabbed his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, wanted him close all of a sudden.

“Didn’t want it to be over that quick,” he mumbled into the blonde’s mouth, pressed a burning kiss in with his tongue, licking out all traces of himself and he batted the other man’s hand away from his dick, started to stroke him leisurely.

“Wanted to touch you,” he said as he pulled away to lay wet kisses on Wes’ neck.  Travis stroked Wes as he humped into his hand, tested out how the blonde felt about teeth just pressed them lightly into the skin with barely any force.

The blonde groaned and bucked against him, sliding into Travis’ fist with a new urgency.

“See? Like that,” he growled and applied more pressure, causing the blonde to moan loudly and clutch at him, trying to keep him at his neck and Travis responded by deepening the pressure, sure that there would be a perfect imprint of his teeth, red and puffy, in his partner’s pale skin when he pulled away.

Wes was panting harshly now, neck thrown all the way back to give Travis better access.

“Matter of fact, where’s that couch you were talking about?” he ground out, moving up to sooth the bite by laving his tongue over it, enjoying how the skin felt hotter on and around his mark. 

He leant back to look Wes in the eye, taking delight in how entirely destroyed the other man looked; his hair a complete disaster and his lips still swollen and plump, how his eyelids fluttered seductively as he came back into his head.

Travis made a note keep up with the biting, Wes was flushed in the face, and finally, Travis saw that it spread all the way down his chest, almost gracing the top of his stomach.

Wes jerked his head in response and grabbed Travis’ hand, leading him out of the foyer and further into the suite.  To his surprise, they walked right past the couch and into the enclosed bedroom, Wes glancing at him shyly as they both stood staring at the bed and walls, studiously not looking at each other.

“Right,” Travis cleared his throat gruffly, suddenly feeling tight and anxious all over, hating the awkwardness that had seemingly sprung out of nowhere, especially considering what they had gotten up to not two minutes ago. 

“How do you wanna do this?”  He turned to his partner with a shadow of his usual smirk on his face, searched Wes’ carefully for any uncertainty.

They could still walk away from this; sure it would be awkward as a three-legged race horse for a while, the memory of Wes sucking him off was sure to play on an endless loop in his brain for the rest of eternity and had definitely jumped to the top of his spank bank rotation. 

But they could still do it; Travis could try to return the favor, and then slink downstairs, close the door on this forever.

But Wes only smiled softly and reached out with one hand, rubbed against Travis’ neck gently.

“Lube’s in the bathroom, hold on,” the blonde ground out in that utterly sexed out voice, his vocal chords still adjusting to the rather vigorous fellatio he had just performed.

Travis’ eyebrows shot up and almost rocketed straight off his face at the mention of lube.

He was still standing there, looking like someone had told him that Elvis was alive and well and about to make a personal appearance when Wes emerged from the en suite bathroom, a mostly full bottle of KY in his hand, blushing furiously, this time from embarrassment.

He came forward and pressed the bottle into Travis’ hand and he suddenly felt lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the nine or possibly, eleven, G&T’s he’d had not an hour ago.

Wes settled himself on the bed, laid out on his back, looking completely wanton but self-conscious at the same time, like he realized how debauched he looked and was uncomfortable with it.

“You sure about this? I mean... I’ve only – have you ever? We could-” Travis was stumbling over his words as he made his way towards the bed, movements jerky and uncoordinated, partly the effects of the alcohol but mostly the way Wes was lounging on the bed with that endearing look on his face, waiting patiently for Travis to locate his balls and get the show on the road.

“Just get over here and we’ll see how it goes,” Wes rasped at him, truly rasped, that voice making Travis quiver down to his toes.

“Right, we’ll just play it by ear,” he said, finally climbing onto the bed, awkwardly making his way to his partner, stretching out over him, bracing his arms on either side of Wes’ torso to hold himself up, hovered over him, not quite touching.

“Exactly,” Wes breathed, craning up to kiss him again, slow and fucking  _filthy_  this time.  Travis felt every swipe of the blonde’s tongue go straight to his cock and he possibly whimpered, though he’d deny it later.

Travis pulled away from the kiss to press more kisses to the pale column of Wes’ throat, open-mouthed with a hint of teeth, setting the other man whining and jerking his hips upwards, trying to find friction.

Travis kept up worrying at the blonde’s neck, reached down to stroke Wes’ dick, smeared the precum down his length, his hand sliding easily as Wes scratched down his back, pumped into his hand with absolute abandon.

Travis grinned into his partner’s neck, sat back on his knees so he could get both hands in on the action without smothering Wes, though the blonde whined at the loss of Travis’ mouth on his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He mumbled and he would be embarrassed at the slip of endearment but Wes’ eyes were wild and trusting, a ghost of a smile shaped on his lips as he looked up at Travis.

The blonde nodded, almost imperceptibly and that was all the green light that Travis needed.  Regretfully, he had to release his hold on Wes’ erection to grab the lube and spread it over his left hand but he picked right back up where he’d left off as soon as his fingers were slick and practically dripping.

Wes sighed in relief when Travis palmed him again, smoothed his hand over the tip and circled his thumb and forefinger around the head of his cock, squeezing lightly, flicked his thumb up to press the flat against Wes’s slit, which must have been sensitive because the blonde bucked wildly, almost out of his grip, several more beads of precum oozing out him.

“Shit, you’re wet, babe. Leaking all over the place, guess you like that, huh?” Travis usually indulged in dirty talk, but it was always calculated, never something that got him off as well. 

But now, growling out to Wes how much he liked him leaking in response to Travis touching him, it was just another added layer to the already over-whelming levels of pleasure he was feeling, just from having Wes spread out under his touch.

“Y-y-yes, fuck.  _Shitshitshitshit_ ,” Wes stammered and gasped in response as Travis pressed his finger in again, dragged a figure eight out on the head of his cock.

The blonde was beyond wrecked, chest heaving rapidly, as if he wasn’t getting enough air, the flush spread across it alarmed Travis a little bit at how  _red_  it was, and he was squirming helplessly into Travis’ hand. 

Nonsense words, whimpers that caught in the back of his throat, only the phonetics making it Travis’ ears, were falling from his lips and his fingers were so tightly bunched in the sheet that Travis heard them rip, give a little under the wild clenching of his hands.

Wes' eyes were open and staring at Travis, but completely unfocused, the warmth of his blue irises  _gone_  and if Travis didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Wes truly had black eyes and Travis could feel his pulse  _thundering_  through his grip on his partner’s member, knew that Wes was about to come.

“Not yet, babe. Wanna do this right with my only chance,” Travis whispered as he backed off to grip the base of his partner’s erection tightly until the immediacy of his orgasm receded and Wes’ eyes refocused as his chest fell into a more natural pattern of breathing, his fingers releasing their death grip on the sheets, a tiny sliver of blue returning to his gaze as he gulped down air, staring at Travis.

Travis cleared his throat, took his hand off of Wes entirely.

“You with me?” he asked louder, meant to be heard this time, noting how wrecked his own voice sounded, blown out, darkened to an octave he never normally reached, dragged low and intimate by lust. 

Wes on the cusp of orgasm was a sight to behold, beautiful actually, making things in Travis’ chest stir painfully as well as filling him with a desperate urge to continue touching him, take him to the edge and push him over, watch the man come completely undone, utterly immersed in a mind-blowing orgasm that Travis had given him.

“Yes,” Wes gasped, the word barely audible and Travis remembered the condition his throat had been in before the frenzied gasping, realized that he probably couldn’t even swallow.

“Want some water, babe?” he asked, already moving off the bed and towards the bathroom.  When he returned with a tumbler of cool liquid, Wes smiled at him gratefully, gulping it down like he’d just spent forty years in the desert.

“Thanks,” he ground out, still hoarse, but no longer painful to listen to and Travis pressed a chaste kiss to his lips in answer.

“Ready?” he asked refreshing the lube on his fingers, not wanting to cause his partner anymore discomfort than was necessary.

Wes watched his fingers, face wary but determined, eyes unwavering as he nodded, breath seeming to have left him.

“Right, it’s not gonna be comfortable, it might hurt. Tell me if you wanna stop for any reason, ‘kay?” he said sternly, maintaining eye contact.

Wes’ expression never faltered though he licked his lips in a nervous gesture as he nodded.

Travis smiled softly and leant in to kiss him, bracketing him again as he pressed into his mouth gently, stroked his tongue, tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, dragged his teeth over it and soon Wes was pulling at him just as desperately as before.

Travis reached down to stroke Wes back to hardness if necessary and found he didn’t have to.  The blonde was impossibly hard, arching up into his light touch immediately.

Smirking, Travis went back to leaning on his knees, kept his right hand on Wes’ cock which was almost thrumming, completely engorged, the tip flushed a deep red, deeper than the blonde’s chest, pulsing against his palm as he reached under with his left hand, index finger brushing so gently against Wes’ opening.

The blonde clenched automatically against the intrusion, his eyes tight, his body reacting without conscious thought; an entirely engrained response.

“Shh, babe, you gotta relax,” Travis murmured, and then pushed his thumb over Wes’ slit again, causing the blonde to moan out his name and loosen up enough for Travis to slip the tip of his finger in.

“Oh, shit,” Wes ground out in that gravelly voice and Travis’ dick twitched impatiently against his thigh.

“You good?” he said, hoping he lasted through the preparation because he was already dizzy with need, almost overcome with his desire to be inside of Wes, feel him like no one ever had before.

The blonde nodded and Travis stroked his cock, slowly, not trying to stimulate, but trying to distract from the foreign feeling of penetration as he slid his finger in a bit deeper, keeping a careful watch on Wes’ face, alert to any signs of pain, filtering out the ones borne of discomfort, because no one ever said that losing your virginity was all around beautiful feelings and rainbow-colored sparklers.

It took careful preparation and breathing out deeply through the strange sensations, but Travis knew from experience, if you did those first two right, everything was pretty world-rocking with cupcakes afterward.

He didn’t want to share with the blonde that he’d never actually fucked a man before, but he did know what he was doing when it came to anal stimulation having  _been_  fucked before, and kept up the single digit for a minute more before he pulled out.

Wes made an impatient face but didn’t protest at Travis’ hushed, “Gonna add another one. You still cool?” as he pushed two fingers in, taking his time, careful to scissor them gradually as possible before pushing in lightly for more depth.

Wes whined softly in the back of his throat and Travis froze.

“You okay?” he asked a little anxiously, searching the blonde’s face carefully. “Wanna stop?” but Wes shook his head.

“Go ‘head, just a little tight and weird s’all. It’s okay, though,” and he looked like he was trying to organize his thoughts past Travis’ fingers in him. 

Satisfied he wasn’t in pain, he pushed in a little deeper, scissoring his fingers wider and this time Wes’ hips jerked, though Travis couldn’t tell if he was trying to get away or looking for more sensation but he stilled his fingers anyways, about to ask the blonde again if he was alright.

“More,” Wes moaned, sounding absolutely licentious, the new growl of his voice breathless and absolutely sinful in Travis’ ears, doing inhumane things to how hard he was, he spared a look down at his dick, saw that he was leaking steadily, precum pooled on his thigh and groaned as he looked back at Wes.

“Yeah, you like that?” Travis grinned at he slipped out to add a third digit and Wes’ breathing started to get heavier.

“Now for the fun stuff,” he smirked having worked his three fingers in all the way down to the knuckle, Wes was already an incoherent mess above him, fingers back in the sheets, mouth fallen open and back arched in a bow, his heels digging into the mattress.

Watching the other man’s face carefully, he crooked his fingers, and knew he’d found his target as Wes  _howled_  and humped onto his hand gracelessly, no rhythm or thought to it, his body acting entirely on instinct, chasing that feeling of fireworks skating across his skin.

“I think you’re good and honestly, I’m not gonna last much longer with you all pretty and hard for me like this,” Travis ground out, removing his fingers, lubing up his dick with perfunctorily, feather light movements, barely touching himself because stroking might put him over the edge. 

He probably used too much lube but he wanted to make sure that Wes was comfortable as possible and better too much lube than too little. 

He pressed hungry, open-mouthed kisses into Wes’ skin as he slid up his body, to his hip, his side, his chest, his neck, nipping sharply with his teeth as he bracketed his arms for support around his partner, enjoying how the blonde squirmed or arched into him, his name a soft sigh in his mouth. 

Finally Travis reached his face, and kissed briefly into Wes’ mouth, just savoring the languid slide of their tongues while the blonde tried to swallow him down, as he lowered himself between Wes’ legs and lined his dick up to the blonde’s entranced, ending the kiss softly.

This was it, the point of no return.

“Wes, babe, you  _sure_  about this?” he asked one last time, had to make absolutely certain there was no way he was misinterpreting what was happening here.

The glare he received in response was absolutely lethal and almost made him laugh.  He would have, if not for how  _painfully, franticly, frenziedly_  hard he was at this point, and gathering enough presence of mind to laugh seemed increasingly difficult, straddling Wes, so close, so  _there_ , opened up for him. 

Also he wouldn’t dare laugh simply because how  _pissed_  Wes looked, more so than that time Travis had made him do a scavenger hunt throughout the entire precinct to find his car keys and that had resulted in a rather painful uppercut followed immediately by a equally powerful right cross. 

This look was white-hot, tinged with a craving he could practically feel pulsating out of the other man’s gaze, the visual spectrum momentarily disrupted to allow Travis to feel the weight of that look on his skin, reality spinning and moving into a different orbit causing Travis to shiver involuntarily, the almost physical touch of Wes’ need pressing into him as sure as the blonde’s hands were gripping his forearms.

“If you ask me that  _one more time_  and if you don’t fuck me  _five minutes ago_ , you are I are going to have some  _serious_  fucking problems, Travis Marks.” The blonde ground out, vocal chords almost vibrating with how deep his voice had gone from lust, anger and use. 

The subsonic sound shot like an arrow straight to the pit of Travis’ stomach, where the beginnings of possibly the best orgasm since he’d first discovered he could have them were starting to coil; heavy and insistent, already impatient with all the teasing, his body having been on edge for what seemed like  _hours_.  He had to close his eyes and breathe for a second.

“Right, just tell me when it feels okay to move,” he whispered as he reached down to align himself and pushed forward, began to breach Wes’ slowly.

If he had thought the heat and tightness of Wes’ mouth were amazing, he was completely unprepared for sinking into the other man’s body properly. 

Travis had only engaged in penetration with women before and then never anal, hadn’t known that anything could feel this  _good_  this devastatingly tight and close and brain-meltingly  _hot_.

He sank into his partner slowly, feeling inch after inch dragging over the sensitive skin of Wes’ hole, the muscles pulling him in, clenching him every second of the way. 

And he knew that Wes wasn’t actively tightening his hold, that he would instead be trying to focus on the overwhelming feelings of insertion; the burn and stretch of Travis pushing into such a tight space, his body trying to learn on the job how to accommodate the girth and length of his dick, the fingers he’d been prepared with not even comparable to the real thing, not really.

Travis groaned, still sinking deeper into the seemingly never-ending glide into Wes’ criminally tight ass, trying to get a grip, watching Wes’ face carefully until he bottomed out after what seemed like forever and held completely still.

It was over, he was a done deal, forever ruined for women and probably any man that wasn’t Wes for the rest of his life. 

Nothing could compare to how he felt right now, entirely surrounded by the incredible pull and pressure and the searing, scorching, insane  _warmth_  of Wes’ body; all of this heightened to the point of distraction knowing that it was his partner underneath him, panting, gasping, reaching out between their joined bodies. 

Travis couldn’t help but lean in to inhale the scent of him.  He smelled of musk, sweat, and the sweet smell that always lay on his skin underneath all his clothes and product and the smells that tried to attach themselves to him during the day.

Travis wasn’t entirely clear on the subject of pheromones, he knew for a fact that bees had them, an inane fact from seventh grade Physical Sciences that would stay with him until he died, apparently. 

But he was unsure on whether people had them, though, allegedly, that hideous smelling cologne that Gendry liked to bathe in was supposed to contain them, but he had never believed that stuff actually worked. 

And Travis was a thousand percent sure that Gendry would have far better luck with the stuff if he were an immensely stupid, but unfairly attractive, rich, nineteen-year-old frat boy with a convertible of some sort.

He was more of the theory that a person’s unique body chemistry produced a pheromone, that the way they smelt to certain people was the nexus of instant chemical attraction.  He still wasn’t clear on the exact science but he was aware that whatever pheromones Wes put off definitely pushed his Go-Go Gadget Raging Boner button and held in down in the ‘On’ position, it was also entirely possible that Wes had broken his button.

Because the way he was feeling right now was probably illegal, with how utterly amazing it felt to be completely in Wes, his arms were shaking but he couldn’t care less about the build-up of lactic acid, he could force himself to hold this position forever as long as the blonde lay underneath him, eyes fluttering, trying to work out whether he was enjoying this or it was just supremely uncomfortable.

Travis blinked carefully as everything suddenly slowed down.  He saw Wes blink in slow motion, moved his gaze down to watch him lick his lips, the motion taking a full minute and somehow exponentially sexier in slow motion. 

He catalogued Wes’ eyes, still entirely blacked out, swimming with uncharacteristic openness; soft with sex and alcohol.  He watched the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, like he wanted to smile but wasn’t sure it was apropos in the current situation.

Travis drank him all in as the moment pulled and spread out further, doubling over on itself, like taffy, sticky and nauseating in excess, but Travis wanted a moment longer, a second more, just another glimpse of watching Wes become a being comprised of nothing but the pleasure Travis was sending through his nerve endings.

The knowledge that Wes was completely exposed for him was making it feel like there was a weight pressing down on his chest.  That right now, at this very moment, he had his dick  _inside_  Wes, just waiting for the word and they would have a physical communion, the important thing though was that it was with  _Wes_  and the enormity of that feeling stabbed into his chest and curling out a tentacle, rooting itself inside of him.

Suddenly Wes’ blinking was speeding back up, Travis was losing his time lapse, focused through the last drawn-out seconds, blocked out the sensations that began to creep back over him, moving nefariously into the corners of his mind, crowding out the image of his partner. 

He held on, tried to let himself feel what Wes was feeling, the joy and fear and trust; the thoughts and emotions had depth to them, an almost physical sensation, as though it were some tattoo the blonde were engraving, stoke by stroke, into Travis’ flesh, in an ink only visible to him, to  _them_. 

In the almost painfully tight grip of Wes’ fingers digging into Travis’ arms; he felt the weight of it, stored it away, tried to calm the arrhythmic beating of his heart as he sank back into his body, the feelings rushing into him, flowing up and over the sides, as he sloshed back into himself, still looking into Wes’ eyes.

Wes had kept his eyes open the whole time, sometimes staring at Travis, sometimes the ceiling, sometimes off to the side, head turned in an attempt to channel the intensity of the new physical sensation coursing through him.

Now his eyes were focused on Travis, unblinking and steady, pulled around the edges but Travis watched as the discomfort evened out, left his face entirely smooth, replaced by an expression of wonder and excitement.

Wes grinned up at him, rolled his hips provocatively in a semi-circle, causing Travis’ eyes to all but cross.

“So, you gonna sit there all day, having a picnic or was there something you wanted to do?” Wes scratched out with that ridiculous sex voice as he pushed back again, urging Travis to move.

“Fuck,” he ground out, gripped Wes’ hips tightly in both hands, pulled out almost entirely and then slammed back in, savoring the utterly animalistic, dirtily low-pitched cry that flew out of Wes’ mouth.

“Was gonna be all gentle,” he snarled, working his hips into and out of Wes’ mercilessly as the blonde actually, literally, whimpered out the tiniest, nastiest, sexiest noises that Travis had ever heard.

“But I don’t think either of us was gonna last for that,” and miraculously, Wes managed to shake his head, whining out something that may have been a no but then also may just have been a strangled cry of pleasure.

Travis frowned at the fact that the blonde had enough functioning brain cells to even acknowledge his question.

“But now, I’m just gonna fuck you fast and oh, so fucking dirty.” He said.  Apparently, the filthy shit coming out of his mouth was doing it for both of them, he thrust his hips urgently, shifted position so that he could get a deeper, more intense angle, pushed in back in harder, pulled out faster.

Travis’ mind was blank, filled with nothing but Wes’ face, utterly wrecked, and he had thought the blonde looked wrecked before, but this was  _it_  right here.

Wes’s eyes were legitimately crossed and Travis’ was sure he was going to be bleeding from where Wes had clawed into his back, dragging his nails down it unconsciously as he tossed and turned, trying to move, though his body didn’t know where to go. 

Sweat glistened on his skin, catching in the light, creating delicious looking rainbow patterns on his upper chest, in the hollow of his throat, he didn’t seem to realize that his back was arched as far as it was going to go, his body held taut, almost vibrating with tension as Travis fucked into him, sending stars and black holes flying across his vision.

Wes was having legitimate trouble remembering how to breathe; his entire consciousness was focused so intently on what Travis was doing to his body, that each breath that shuddered back into his lungs genuinely surprised him. He knew that he had enjoyed sex before, but this was a whole other animal.  Having someone inside him was overwhelming in itself, but Travis seemed to have made it his personal mission to actually break Wes’ brain with his dick. 

The heat, so very heavy, pushed into him, almost burning with its intensity, and the pressure of being  _full_.  He was going crazy, having the power of Travis’ body pushing at him from the inside out, his body was entirely at it’s wit’s end, straining desperately, the soft-focused edges of his vision were getting more intense, moving inwards, trying to colonize the rest of his sight. 

He couldn’t remember what he felt like when he wasn’t being speared open and turned inside out and then having his insides carefully poured back in, as he focused solely on the pressure and weight and hot pleasure that felt like actual fire, out of control starlight, a supernova condensed and lazily coursing through his body, slowly replacing his blood with this liquid that burned too  _hot_  and made him feel everything  _all at once_.

There were no words to describe how hot and cold and amazing and in pain and beautiful and scary and heavy and  _good_  he was feeling at the moment, so he gave up trying, his mouth moving of its own accord as he focused intently on Travis face, felt how, it could be called violently, but it felt rather the opposite, Travis was pounding into him, reorganizing his bloodstream, molecule by molecule while the entirety of the pleasure beat a haze into his brain as it tried to keep itself intact.

Travis was spinning out of control, the absolute pounding of his pulse fucking with how hard he was pushing himself, because his heartbeat wasn’t based solely on his physical exertion, it was also in response to Wes’ reactions underneath him.  Travis worked hard to never say the anything was the most but right now, Wes was the most gorgeous thing he’d even seen.

The blonde gasped out occasionally, under his breath, as if he couldn’t manage to form words or he if it was just for him, a way to keep his skin from melting off, but when Travis leant down to listen he realized it was mostly his name, an entirely unthinking string of “ _Travistravistravistravis_ ,” falling like a prayer or a plea from Wes’ pretty pink lips, still darkened and plush, interspersed with some of the most disgustingly flattering curses Travis had ever had the distinct pleasure of having directed at him.

So, he leant down to kiss him, Wes responded immediately, sloppily and out of time, his moans louder with the echo provided by Travis’ mouth.  He gripped the blonde’s hips even harder, wanted for him not only to not be able to walk properly, but for there to be ten red reminders, pushed into his body, of whose he was.

The thought spurred him on; he glanced at Wes’ face and saw that he was so close that it probably hurt by now.  He stopped his thrusts, pulled all the way out and ignored Wes snarl of anger, grabbed blindly for a pillow, lifted Wes and shoved it under him.

“Trust me, babe.” Travis ground out as he pushed back in without warning, Wes screamed, bona fide, someone’s being murdered, screamed, at the top of his lungs as the thrust hit square against his prostate, entirely too much from this angle and force.

“Yeah, that’s what you were waiting for, huh? You love it don’t you?”  Apparently, filth that he hadn’t even known he could say without blushing was trying to make its way out of him, he was practically snarling now, doing his best impression of a fucking tiger, slammed into Wes, completely gone.

His body was working on autopilot, pushing at what felt the best, feeling Wes’ reactions and autocorrecting, not that the blonde was going to be able to take much more.

Travis thought about reaching between them for his prick, which he could see was leaking so heavily that Wes entire stomach, all the way up to his nipples and all the way past his groin, even the tops of his thighs, were coated in precum, wet and sticky. 

Travis did think about taking Wes in hand but decided against it, something much more fun snaked its way into the bit of his mind that wasn’t occupied with fucking Wes within an inch of his life, something that would ensure Wes never forgot this night, no matter how hard he might try.

“Hey babe, you close? About to come for me?” he licked into Wes’ ear, not expecting a response, his hips snapping forward much too sharply for Wes to find words.

“How about it, babe? Gonna come with your cock untouched, just from my fat dick fucking you open, splitting you in half?”  Travis had pushed himself over the edge, he was teetering on the brink, moved his arms up to grab Wes’ and pin him down, the added stimuli looking like it might make the blonde’s head explode; the sounds and moans working their way out of him now only barely distinguishable variations of ‘Travis’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘please, wanna come’ and that was one wish Travis looked forward to granting.

Stretching out he nudged Wes’ face to the side, laid his body completely on top of his, draped his body across the pale one underneath and he felt Wes shudder, trying to break the hold Travis had on his wrists, wanting to touch him. 

It was nice, but Travis had Wes where he wanted him and he wasn’t about to let him go.

Angling his hips a bit further down, slowing the tempo to something liquid and less frantic, trying to drag every last moment out, it suddenly seemed that they had foolishly rushed here, stupidly listening to the utter idiocy of their bodies when he should have been more focused on the utterly vice-like tightening around his ribcage and how it seemed to get tighter and tighter with each minute they used. 

So Travis slowed down, kept the force there, the position of just brushing Wes’ prostate, wanted him to feel good but not slip into incoherency. He leant in close to Wes’ ear, whispered brokenly:

“You wanna come for me babe? Just like this. I can feel how  _stiff_  you are against me, so very thick and hot.  Bet you’re gonna shoot so hard it’ll end up on the ceiling.  Gonna make sure you’ll never fucking forget this,” Travis had meant to remain calm, but he found his pace picked up again, his hips stuttering forcefully against Wes, losing it with what he was feeling. 

His fingers bit into Wes’ wrists as he lost all pretense of rhythm, his hips beating out a desperate tempo that seemed to scream ‘ _Fuck, I need you, I didn’t realize ‘til just now, don’t go, stay close, fuck me for being so stupid,_ ” repeating over and over and over again until that’s all that exists, Wes’ body beneath him, lovely and ethereal, and the mantra his body was trying to press into the blonde’s skin without words, until he felt utterly adrift.

He could feel time creeping to a crawl again, his last chance to memorize everything about Wes’ face when he was about to come, when he was in the middle of coming and those hazy, easy handful of moments after orgasm when people are scientifically proven to be their nicest, the most unguarded, the most receptive to Travis trying to tell his partner that he didn’t want to back to the way things had been before, how it would kill him, not a little, but quite a lot, inside if they had to pretend that this had never happened.

It was almost over, Wes would come and then that would be it and Travis ground his teeth roughly at the thought, the unpleasant sensation of his molars rubbing against each other with all the smoothness of tectonic plates did little to distract him from the emotional bombshell he had just dropped on himself, go figure.

Travis wanted to fight the slow-down until the exact moment that Wes came, but he could feel already feel his pulse slowing down to a comforting mid-tempo waltz.

But before everything could move to a glacier’s pace, while Wes could still hear him, he had to get the last bit out:

“That’s right babe, you belong to me. There’ll never be another person to touch you like this, make you feel like I make you feel. Fucking hell, what you do to me. You’re mine, I fucking swear it.  I promise you belong to me. I  _need_  you to belong to me. I need you,” and that was it, all he had time for, he could feel the seconds crystalizing, turning into something more meaningful, more serious, because who respected seconds, they were thrown away daily. 

People respected hours, even minutes when a group of them were counted together, and so the seconds pulled at their invisible, microscopic skins, tested their boundaries, had just started to condense into something more solid but then Travis had managed it, had gasped his last words before they were even halfway to their pulled potential, before they could evolve and morph into a grotesque parody of their closest cousin, where 60 of them stopped moving as they were meant to, suddenly, and made themselves an impenetrable wall of 1,000, cutting Travis off from the world until after it’s much too late and the minutes snap back, with their inherent elasticity and everything resumed play as normal. 

He had gotten one over on the seconds; they had an even smaller cousin that no one ever thinks about, barely even remembered, so they were in fact the perfect allies.  Whenever the seconds go out to play their elongating games, this tiny, miniscule little unit gets forgotten, laying about in the dust and grime of those things that are never even considered. 

So as the seconds pulled and tried to rearrange themselves into broader units of measure, Travis fell back onto their only weakness, growled out his confession into his lover’s ear and then sank his teeth into Wes’ neck, hard enough to draw blood, still fucking slowly into Wes.

The effect was instantaneous, Wes let out a cry, completely unsuitable in volume for five in the morning, or anytime, really, where one expected to be around  _any_  company, of “Yes!” and went entirely still, twitched spastically with his eyes wide as they stared at Travis, who was utterly surprised because the seconds had been beaten at their own game, split up into milliseconds, allowing for him to let Wes know before it all fell apart.

Less surprising, because it was so long overdue, was his orgasm. 

It punched out of him with such literal force, he doubled over, curled with his back rounded over, completely floored by the suddenness and utter force behind Wes’ orgasm, which pulled all his muscles tight enough that Travis had a moment to worry about his partner’s spine before his mind literally went blank, entirely without any sort of warning, his own released pulled out of him by Wes’ spasming muscles, as he came so hard he possibly passed out.

The only semi-conscious thought floating through the furthest peripheries of his mind as he unspooled into utter and absolute gelatinous liquid was that he had done it; Wes was completely his in this moment, moving with his body, crying out in pleasure so acute it sounded like pain, pleasure that Travis had teased out of his body with his hands, and his mouth and his tongue and his cock.

And they were completely and utterly bound together, now, in a way that Travis was just beginning to try and wrap his mind around. 

As soon as he felt somewhat like a person with a skeletal structure again as he floated back from whatever white space he had gone to after coming so hard he’s pretty sure he pulled something, was the dim thought of:

‘Figures he likes to cuddle,’ as he registered an octopus-like creature that smelled suspiciously like Wes after sex slowly curling itself around him, but he couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes to check, who had weighted down his eyelids, anyway?

The discovery of the octopus person, whom he had decided to wrap his arms around in response, he spelled like Wes, he couldn’t be that bad, was second only to the jubilant thought of:

“He said yes,” echoing quite loudly through his brain and he may have heard a muffled and very drowsy,

“’Course you dumbass, now sleep.”

Float up from somewhere around his chest, but he can’t be completely sure it wasn’t his imagination, before he downright blacked out for an undeterminable amount of time.

******

Waking up felt like he had been asleep for maybe a century and a half.  He relinquished sleep though he kept his eyes closed, unhappily recognizing the blinding and headache-inducing glare of the sun trying to burn its way through his eyelids.

Why hadn’t he pulled the fucking blinds?  He always pulled the blinds when he got home.

There was a dull pounding in his head and his body ached in places that usually didn’t even feel used the morning after a vigorous work out. 

He tried to work his backwards Time Machine into remembering what the hell he did last night that this morning he felt like an old, overworked, sore, still  _very_  tired Rip Van Winkle.

He blinked hazily at the light filtering in through the bay window after he finally dared to open his eyes as he bent himself backwards cracking his back, really only in the first inning of an epic morning stretch, his side brushing over his partner’s skin, his mind absently supplied.

Maybe he’d hit the gym today in an effort to realign his poor, aching muscles after whatever midnight athletics he’d deemed it wise, in retrospect not so much, to engage in.

Wait.  Bay window?  Partner?

He flipped over in an ill-advised, too fast move that his back protested intensely as he interrupted his stretch in his haste to see if what was slowly coming back to him had been an  _incredibly_  vivid wet dream, judging by how the skin on his back pulled as though someone had tried to claw their way through to his front from his back, or reality. 

Only to find himself staring directly into Wes’ face, less than half a foot from him, utterly relaxed in sleep, lying quite close to him, their shins entwined.

This was definitely real, he reasoned even before he reached to pinch himself, Wes’ warm and entirely too pleasant for before he’d brushed his teeth, even, breath, wafted into his face, ruffling over his cheeks, making him ticklish.

“Well, Holy Shit on a stick,” he mumbled under his breath and gently extradited his legs from Wes’ padding into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as he could behind him.

The question was, why were he and Wes in bed, in their birthday suits?  They had often shared a bed before, even in their boxers, but never before had he woken up next to a  _naked_ Wes, equally naked himself.

He borrowed Wes’ toothbrush, trying to scrub the delightful taste of road kill out of his mouth with a healthy amount of Wes’ equally disgusting smelling organic toothpaste, grinning at the fact that Wes’d probably just tell Travis to keep it once he found out.

He took a piss and fleetingly contemplated a shower but then decided that he’d rather smell like Wes for as long as possible, he had no idea when they’d actually fallen asleep and how soon the blonde would wake up and if he’d be sent packing when that happened. 

So he splashed some water on his face and tried not to linger on the thought of Wes waking up, turning absolute glacial eyes towards him and telling him he’d see him at work.

Travis’ chest clenched painfully as more and more details fluttered to him through the gritty, but familiar feelings of a hangover, pretty mild though, by his standards. 

Travis couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to use this memory technique at the crack of fucking dawn, waking up in a bed that didn’t belong to him, an indiscernible lump of passed out person next to him, his clothes scattered everywhere, trying to remember where he was and if it was safe to just throw on his clothes and walk on out.

But never before, besides avoiding a potential fistfight before his first cup of coffee, had it  _mattered_  that he remembers exactly what happened the night before.

So they’d been at the bar for a couple of hours, he intuited from the au de jour of dead cat he’d just forcefully ejected from his mouth and the still angry throbbing in his head, and then had come up here. 

Travis remembered there being a lot of kissing, like a lot.  Suddenly, unbidden, but still  _there_ , he had a thought that he had  _fucked_  Wes, which was utterly ludicrous.  It felt very real in his mind, but it could very well have been a dream, and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Wes had popped up in his nocturnal wanderings, often with indecent requests that Travis was more than happy to deal with for him. 

But Wes in real life was utterly uninterested in boning him, he knew how to read sexual attraction, after all, and besides, Wes was straight and where in the hell would Travis have even gotten up the balls to seduce his partner?

His head was spinning and he was utterly confused.  Sure, he’d been lusting after Wes for years, but he’d never make a move, would he?

Reaching for the back of his neck in a sudden movement he hissed as whatever the fuck was going on with his back pulled painfully.

Realization dawning slowly but surely, he turned his back to the sink, where the full wall-sized mirror sat and cheerfully informed him that his back was a maze, or a tangle, really, of bloody fingernail lines, some of them only welts, but the worst of them were probably going to need some Bactine and some creative gauze work.

Holy Fucking Drunken Hook-Up, Batman; he had fucked his partner.

Travis stared at himself in the mirror, now utterly desperate that he remember exactly what had transpired, having every detail at his disposal was the only way to go from here, he needed to remember, god damn it, before Wes woke up.

Sudden flashes of pushing his fingers into Wes, him asking possibly an embarrassing number of times if Wes was sure, he remembered fucking his way into Wes and suddenly, like a runaway freight train, that one moment of sensory memory unlocked every single detail.

He remembers fucking Wes like he still thought he was twenty, which would explain the aches and pains, distinctly remembers the way Wes had looked, had he had thought it was enchanting, how hard Wes had run his nails up, down and across his back.

Yeah, thanks for that, he grumbled.  Suddenly he remembered all he had been thinking, it engulfed him abruptly like being dropped into a pool of cold realizations, no escape, no rationalizations available in the cold, sober, unforgiving light of day.

He was most likely, highly probably, in love with his partner.  And what a splendid time to figure that out, when you’re balls-deep in said man, trying to make his brain dribble out of his ears, so he’ll want you back at another time when he isn’t so spectacularly smashed that fucking you seems like a good idea, without the addition of alcohol.

Travis was aware that perhaps he wasn’t the most emotionally stable person in the world, but even to him, that seemed like some pretty seriously dangerous liaisons.

Maybe it would be better if he left.

As he placed his hand on the doorknob, the penultimate detail came barreling towards his head, dropped from a hundred miles up, flattening the top of his head a la Roadrunner and Coyote, as he remembers what he had told Wes before they had fallen asleep, or more like, passed the fuck out after some of the most rigorous, intense,  **holyfuckingshitamazing**  and emotionally-involved sex he’d had in about fifteen years.

“I  _need_  you to belong to me. I need you,” the syllables moved into themselves, folding into tiny compartments, all realized as a paralyzing fear, lodged themselves into his cerebral cortex, supplied him, quite kindly with a play-by-play.

His voice had been desperate, his eyes had been wild, unsure, he was pretty sure that “I  _need_  you to belong to me,” qualified as some pretty serious begging, pathetic even.

Fuck this, he had to get home, he had to run away from the pressure of time, the seconds had rushed him, damn it.  Now they were dancing before his eyes, as they had looked yesterday, blurry around the edges and like something he seriously shouldn’t be doing.

Mind made up, he quietly yanked open the bathroom door and again, for the second time in ten minutes, found himself face-to-face with Wes.

“Oh, thank God. I was hoping you wouldn’t be freaking out in there much longer, I really need to pee,” the blonde spat out, practically bowling him over in his haste to get to the toilet. 

Travis winced and went into the bedroom to begin collecting his clothes; to try and make his exit with as much dignity as was left to him. 

He was halfway back into his jeans when Wes came up behind him, pulled him down on the bed, nuzzled into his neck and whispered, so softly, Travis wasn’t entirely sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, would have thought it was except for the warm glide of Wes’ breathe across his neck, “I need you too, you know.”

He pulled back; grinning widely at Travis utterly shocked face, darted forward and placed a resounding kiss on his lips.

“Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

 _fin_.

**Author's Note:**

> ok, seriously. i hope you guys like it. this is the smuttiest (and longest) thing i've published since i was like, 15. feed back is, as always, much appreciated. <3


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